Belle Nuit
by doomspleen
Summary: There's a young girl living under the Opera Populaire while the Phantom of the Opera events are occuring. Except, no one knows about her. Based off the movie, not the book. Rated for possible language. R&R please.
1. Nuit

**Belle Nuit**

**Part one: Nuit**

**Paris, 1870:**

_Alone_. That was the only word she could think of to sum up her life. She was all alone, and she had been for some time. It didn't mind her so much anymore. The young girl had quickly grown accustomed to the quiet crypts beneath the theater. After all, it was all she had. She couldn't remember anything about the world outside, or her family for that matter. All she knew was that they had abandoned her outside the Opera Populaire on a soggy night ten years ago.

She was only one and a half years old at the time, and an elderly cleaning lady employed by the theater had carried her inside and cared for her in secret, hiding her below the theater. However, the woman died four years later, leaving the poor girl lost amidst the deep caverns and passages beneath the church. After crying for five days straight, she finally gave in and let the darkness consume her. She was no longer afraid of the rats running rampant through walls, or the spider webs clinging to everything she touched. She embraced the cold, damp tunnels with their watery floors. She welcomed the crypts as her own, but most importantly, she welcomed her loneliness. Soon she knew every single secret buried beneath the theater, and she was fast. She could race through the crypts at astonishing speeds without making the slightest sound or even disturbing the pools of water scattered about.

The girl was now nearing thirteen. She had grown tired of endlessly wandering through the passages, and was content with just sitting on the roof watching the stars. They had always mystified her, with their timeless beauty gazing down upon the Earth. She smiled to herself, thinking how her old caretaker would have reacted seeing her so high up staring out at the world. _The old woman never had any sense of wonder. Or fashion for that matter,_ she added with a laugh, recalling the outrageously poofy skirts that used to adorn the woman's chubby torso.

She looked out at the stars again. They glittered so peacefully over the silent city laid out before her. Watching them slowly twinkle relaxed her and she remembered when she had first seen the sparkling wonders..

**6 years ago:**

A teenage Christine Daae ran through the halls of the ballet dormitories. _Late for my lessons again! Oh, how could I have been so stupid!_ she thought angrily. Suddenly, she stopped. She could have sworn she saw a flash of hair disappear round a distant corner. Passing it off as one of the other ballerinas, she continued racing towards the stage.

Later that evening she found herself walking up to the large balcony at the rear of the theater. She had been ridiculed by the other girls for being late again, and needed to escape. Not even her best friend Meg knew Christine came here. It was the perfect sanctuary. Upon reaching the top, though, she stopped again. There was a little girl walking towards the railing. Tentatively and silently, she stepped, staring at the sky the whole time. It was as if she made any noise, she would scare away the stars. Utterly mystified, she did not hear as Christine walked up behind her.

"It's alright, they won't disappear." Christine reassured.

The girl whipped around, looking frightened and awestruck at the same time.

"The stars are the lights of angels," Christine continued gently. "They're always here watching over us."

She surveyed at the poor little thing trembling before her. The child had large, dark eyes that shook with a mixture fear and awe. Her jet-black hair fell past her waist, loosely tied back with a discarded, old ribbon. The sharp moonlight accentuated the pallor of her skin, yet her face was shining with emotion just the same. She looked so frail compared to the muscular, yet sleek, ballerinas to which Christine was so accustomed.

"My name is Christine. What is yours--," she started, but the girl had fled.

So swiftly had she disappeared from the terrace, that Christine couldn't help but murmur, "..just like the night.…un enfant de nuit..."

A ways away, in the safety of the secret passages, a child stopped to catch her breath. Her head was swimming with thoughts and emotions, each one stronger than the last. At last, she calmed herself down. That girl called herself Christine. I wonder if I could have a name too.. She listened. Nuit...I like it..

**Present:**

A gentle breeze blew past, arousing Nuit from her memories. Slowly, she climbed back down towards the crypts she called home and quickly feel asleep on her cot.

**The next morning:**

An indignant screech shattered the silence, echoing from above. It was enough to rouse the girl from her slumber. She sighed then started to giggle. La Carlotta was at it again...

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A/N: This is my very first fanfic, so bear with me. I know it's bad. Anyway, I'm not sure at all where it's exactly headed. I just had an idea and started writing. The beginning seems a little choppy to me at the moment, I swear it will get better. So far all I have are the very beginning and the very end, with very little information on whats happening in between.

I decided to name it after the first two words in the famous Barcarolle from the French opera, Les Contes d'Hoffmans. It seemed fitting, considering the setting and main character.

By the way, this isn't really EC or RC. It's just the same story told from a different perspective. Both guys will get bashed around to some degree.


	2. Obsessions

**Belle Nuit**

**Part two: Obsessions**

**Nuit laughed. _How could I ever think I'm alone? I have the entire Opera Populaire above me_. Without a sound, she slipped upstairs to see what was going on.**

**La Carlotta was screaming at two men Nuit supposed were the new managers. Something about a dress not being finished..? Sheepishly, she recalled the tricks she had played on the seamstresses the previous week.**

**They had walked in one morning to notice that every fabric that wasn't colored red or black had** been stolen. Much to Nuit's amusement, they had run aimlessly around, screaming that the Opera Ghost had stolen the dresses. It had taken nigh two hours for anyone else to even bother checking the room, which had been plenty of time for the wily girl to return the clothes to the exact places they were left. Her little ruse had set them back in their work, however, and now the grand diva was fuming.

Somehow, the new managers had convinced her to calm down and sing the aria from act three. Nuit had to admit that Carlotta had a very good voice, but it was simply not suited for the lightness of the aria. She smiled as she watched the maids down below stuff cotton in their ears, and then jerked up, alarmed, and hid. She had heard quiet footsteps in the loft to her right. There was no doubt in her mind that it was Erik. He always tended to show up whenever something new was happening. Swiftly, he released the rope holding up the backdrop and let it fall, knocking the gaudy soprano down. His cape trailed behind him as he stalked off, but not before letting a letter fall to the stage floor.

Nuit rolled her eyes in exasperation. Erik was a musical genius, but he had an obsession for the dramatics. She had snuck down to his lair more than once, lured by his majestic organ. It was a beautiful cavern, much larger than her own, lit by a thousand candles. It seemed that no matter what, there was always a melody lingering on the fingertips of the cave. There were scores and scripts cascading onto the floor. His obsessions extended to the girl, Christine. He had been in love with her since before Nuit could remember, and had even constructed an intricately detailed and life-size replica or her. He would often go to her room at night and sing to her in her sleep. His deep, rich voice lightly lulling both Christine and Nuit softly through pleasant dreams. Unlike Christine, though, he didn't know Nuit existed, and knowing his tendency to strangle people, Nuit wasn't about to be discovered now. When he wasn't writing music or fawning over Christine, he was strutting through the passageways under "his" theater and leaving bossy notes referring to himself as the Opera Ghost. Somehow he had also convinced the previous manager, M. le Favres, to pay him twenty thousand francs every month and to leave a box open for every performance. Nuit sometimes wondered how many people were injured or killed before le Favres caved in.

She cautiously peeked out, and when she was sure no one was there, she resumed her place overlooking the stage and froze. Carlotta had run off and Christine Daae was singing her part. Suddenly frightened, Nuit rapidly made her way back to her cot. If Christine had landed the leading role, Erik was sure to be lingering nearby. The coming night was the premere, and with every step,something became clearer and clearer. The phantom had plans, and Nuit knew better than to get in the way of them.

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A/N: Second chapter! I was hoping to have read HBP before i put this up, but seeing as hasn't even shipped it yet... I know they've both been pretty short, but that's just kind of how it happened. By the way, Nuit is in absolute awe of Eric, but she's also a little scared. I don't know how well that was portrayed. 

Next time is the play, we meet Raoul, and Nuit hears a strange voice passing by her cot. I'll try to get it written, but I'm leaving for camp for a month on Sunday, so I don't know.

Please review!

A/N: Second chapter! I was hoping to have read HBP before i put this up, but seeing as hasn't even shipped it yet... I know they've both been pretty short, but that's just kind of how it happened. By the way, Nuit is in absolute awe of Eric, but she's also a little scared. I don't know how well that was portrayed. 


	3. Voices

disclaimer: forgot to mention this on the first two chapters, but this is not mine.

**Belle Nuit**

**Part three: Voices **

Nuit sat on her cot and listened. The opera going on above echoed crisply through the tunnels under the theater. She always listened to the performances from below, envisioning every step of the ballet. Afterwards she would join in the throng backstage. It was the only time she could see the singers and dancers that had inspired her imagination in person without getting caught.

Christine Daae's voice seemed to float, twirling and dancing softly through the air. Nuit had always felt a small attachment to the older girl. She too was an orphan, living around the theater. Now as she lay down and listened to the aria she could picture it perfectly in her mind. A snow-white dress flowing onto the stage, stars glittering peacefully in her curls, and her face lit up by the lights and the thrill of the applause. Too soon, though, the opera was over. Making sure she looked decent enough to blend in, Nuit snuck upstairs.

The crowd backstage was larger than usual, the air thick with cheering, flowers, and a hint of smoke and alcohol. Mme. Daae had been a massive success and her dressing room was already over flowing with bouquets by the time Nuit reached it. There was a young man nearby, seemingly involved in conversation with the new owners, but he kept glancing around, as if searching for someone. He was finely dressed and stood with propriety. His hair was soft and brown, flowing almost to his shoulders. At first glance, he was handsome, charming, rich, and polite, but then Nuit saw his eyes. They were beady, dark, little things with haughtiness and a touch of lust hidden beneath his gaze. It was clear that he was used to getting what he wanted.

Nuit immediately did not like him, and when his eye fell upon Christine, that only intensified that feeling. Hardly even saying a word, he grabbed the bouquet that M. Firmin had been holding and stepped into her dressing room. He was going to try to win the heart of the newest opera star, and by doing so; he was taking on the phantom of the opera.

Overcome by a sudden panic, Nuit raced back towards her cot, going out of her way to use passages that were too small for Erik to fit through. He was bound to be irate about this. Already, she could hear his footsteps echoing on the stone. _Oh well, as long as he doesn't do anything rash, everything should be fine_, Nuit reassured herself. She let herself drift into a light, restless slumber. However, it didn't last long.

Nuit was awoken by voices, two voices to be exact. One was hesitant, unsure, and a little scared, while the other was filled with power and longing, and was it just sleepy hallucination, or were they coming closer? She couldn't believe her ears. The young girl waited until the voices had passed, then tentatively crept after them. Following the voices deeper and deeper into the crypts, her worst fears were realized: Erik had brought Christine Daae to his musical lair.

Now knowing the destination, Nuit slipped down an alternate route to avoid being seen. As she neared the cave, she stopped. What was she doing here anyway? It was none of her business in the first place, and what did she plan on doing once she got there? Sure, Christine shouldn't have been brought here, but who was a twelve-year-old girl to tell a murderer what to do? Shutting her mind off from all reason, Nuit stepped into the light and she knew there was no turning back.

"Erik…"

Immediately his dark eyes snapped in her direction. They were a mix of fury, disbelief and fear.

"Who are you?" He growled, staring at the pale, trembling child standing before him.

Her voice faltered at the sheer intensity of his question.

"I said, who are you!"

He repeated fiercely, his voice magnified as it echoed in the surrounding crypts. She was petrified out of her mind, yet somehow she managed to form an answer.

"M-My name is Nuit. You don't know who I am, but I've been living in these passageways for the past ten years. I know that you've been hiding down here for almost your whole life and are probably very lonely, but please monsieur you have to take Mme. Daae back. She has a life and a career up there and you would just end up hurting her by keeping her down here. I know that I really have no right to ask this of you, but please, monsieur, please…"

Tears had found their way into her eyes as she nervously babbled on. Eric looked on, pity slowly entwining the conceited fury in his heart. The poor child had as little as him, and as scared as she was, she still had enough courage to confront him.

He turned, his black cape billowing dramatically in his wake as he sat before his organ. Nuit just stood there for what seemed to her as hours as he thought. She had stopped trembling, but she dared not do or say anything more. Finally, but without turning to her, he spoke.

"Of course I will let Christine return. I could not will myself to keep her down here if she would be unhappy. She is asleep now, so I will take her back in the morning… You should go as well; it is very late."

With that he rose, and before Nuit could grasp what had happened, Eric had disappeared. She distractedly walked back to her cot, not even trying to dampen the sloshing water beneath her feet. As she fell asleep once more, she could have sworn she heard a faint melody, a waltz perhaps, weighed down with sorrow and regret, yet still light and almost surreal.

Nuit dreamt of fish. There was a glass bowl, maybe it was crystal, but how it sparkled radiantly in the light. Inside, there was a miniature castle, complete with a drawbridge and a flag on the highest tower, its color slightly faded from the sun. An old fish lived in the castle. He was a beta, a fighting fish, scarred deeply from earlier days. Having lost a lot, he was almost possessive of his castle. It was the only thing dear to him. There was another fish too, a tiny, little tetra. She lived on the other side of the bowl and was fascinated by the proud old beta and his castle. One day, though, the tetra awoke to witness a giant hand drop a new fish into the tank. He was another beta and he was much younger and more colorful, without a scale out of place. He had set his eyes on the castle and was eyeing it greedily. Without a second's delay, he attacked the old fish inside it. They fought ferociously while the tetra looked on helplessly. Blow after blow, the two betas fought, and eventually, the flashy new beta had taken the castle and the older one, close to death, hid in the shadow. Upon seeing the brutal fight between the two larger fish, the same hand scooped up the old beta dropped it onto ground, its gills screaming for air as it flopped, slowly dying…

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A/N: I am sooooo sorry it took so long getting this up. I tried writing it, got writer's block, went to camp for a month, came back, got more writer's block, school started, and I got even more writer's block. It took over two months to get it done, didn't it? To be honest, it wasa review (I have four!)that got me back on track. 

Ridel: you have no idea how honored I am that you put this story on your favorites list.

Soooooo, we meet Raoul, Nuit meets Eric, and we finally get some dialogue. Well, not much, but oh well. I also like the dream scene. No,I have no idea why a girl who's never seen a fish before in her life would be dreaming about tropical fish in a tank, but I don't really care. It was fun to write and it was a nice break from caves and crypts. Also, foreshadowing is fun, even though anyone reading this probably knows the ending, there are a few little twists and turnsI can throw in without changing the story.

Next chapter: the phantom decides to further Christine's career with a series of notes, including one for a certain little girl...

By the way, I'd also like to thank Mary for putting up with my horrible drafts and making sure what I post isn't too pathetic.


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